


Flowers in the Ink

by FairyFluffle



Category: Ebon Light (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, I haven't published a fanfic in like 10 years, Romance, Soulmate AU, Undecided Relationship(s), but also tell me what i did wrong so i can correct it later, i love most of the guys help, please be gentle im really nervous lol, there will probably be eventual sex be warned, this is gonna be a wild and long ride
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:01:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25121308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyFluffle/pseuds/FairyFluffle
Summary: Muerrie never expected to meet her soulmate. When you live in a "village" with 18 people, including her, you really don't get a grasp of just how many people are out in the world. She's content with that though, he draws beautiful things for her, and that's enough. But of course things never stay according to plan, do they? She's kidnapped by a sour-faced elf and brought to a strange, dreary island. What are the odds that her soulmate happens to be on the very island she's been brought to? Very low, of course, but fate is a kind and cruel mistress indeed.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	Flowers in the Ink

The wind tasted of salt, light and crisp as a cold breeze fluttered her hair, whispering over her flesh and leaving goosebumps in its wake. It was a peaceful day, she had woken up before the sun was up, sneaking out to get a few moments respite to watch the sky blooming with streaks of crimson and orange. 

Stars still littered the sky, twinkling in her eye’s reflection. The world was beautiful, she thought, still and serene as captured in this moment, a painting given to her by nature. But...Something was off, a charge in the air tense and tightly wound, a cord, almost like lightning, perhaps. Did she know what lightning even felt like? It tugged at her, pulling at strings deep in her thoughts, buried away behind-

“Wake up, girl!” A stiff voice called out, pulling Muerrie from the recesses of her mind and drawing her into the present, sunlight filtering through the leaves of the tree she rested against. Her aunt peered down at her, an expression of thinly veiled concern twisting her features. Muri yawned and clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle the noise, her eyes watering as she stood up to stretch, flashing the old woman a sly smile.

“Yes, Aunt Vanya?” She asked, her voice almost deceptively sweet, mischief lurking in her gaze. Her aunt seemed none too amused, however, and held out a basket, practically shoving it at her. 

“It’s time for you to go foraging, we may have a small surplus of supplies now but it won’t always be that way, with winter coming it would be better to stock up as much as we can while we can. Go now, see what you find.” 

Muerrie nodded, cradling the basket in the crook of her arm while smoothing out her wrinkled pants before starting off into the burned woods nearby. She had a small secret to check on anyway, hidden from Vanya as well as the other residents of Edric.

A small garden that was cultivating, in a plot of fertile earth that hadn’t been burned away years ago. It was sparse, but more than what many others had, so she was pleased with her tiny pocket of wealth. A few carrots, a turnip or two, beets, and her most prized possession was the ever so small patch of raspberries. They weren’t quite ripe yet, but they surely would be before winter, and if she was lucky enough there might be  _ just _ so many that she could make a bit of jam to preserve. That thought alone kept her going most days, it was such a luxury and she was positive Vanya would be pleased as well.

She brought some water to her garden, checked for any wilting leaves or dead roots, satisfied to find nothing that would be a danger to her plants. “Good, this should help Vanya and I a great deal this winter…” She murmured to herself, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

Muri couldn’t afford to get too distracted, however, and she ventured off in search of a more common bounty. Ramps, plain shoots that offered very little nutritional value, perhaps some amaranth or purslane if she were lucky. Healthy, not very filling, but better than nothing most days. She hunted occasionally, something that was very uncommon in Edric, but she was rather good with a dagger and made use of the one she had traded for long ago. The blade was a tad dull, but quick and sturdy nonetheless. Meat was rare, however, and not many animals stayed close to Edric, so she was not likely to find any game before winter.

Some odd number of hours passed before her basket was full, and she nodded to herself with satisfaction. Mayhap Vanya thought she would get nothing today, and Muerrie was eager to show off her prize. Possibly out of spite, as her wonderful aunt was known for harsh criticism. Despite that, they were a good match, as the two of them much preferred quiet company.

As she began the slow trek home, however, a soft tingle began to grow in her right arm, and she had to fight to keep the smile off of her face as she hurried over to a nearby tree to sit, pulling up her sleeve to gaze down at her pale skin. Inked vines were growing along the length of her wrist, leaves blooming with every stroke of black paint. He was drawing for her again...her soulmate.

It was not common in these times for one to actually  _ have _ a soulmate, but one day she woke up to find what looked like notes in a strange language, written on the palm of her hand. Muri realized that her mate likely didn’t think he was connected to anyone, and was writing notes on his own skin while unaware that prying eyes could see. She had written back a small greeting just under his notes, and he had immediately scratched out his previous writings so as to prevent her from reading them, possibly even understanding. It wasn’t to be, however, she didn’t even know what language he had written in. 

He didn’t speak to her, even though she apologized many times for intruding, but one day she had woken up to a wealth of flowers drawn and colored along her fingers, curling around them like pretty rings. Vanya had been shocked, had held her by the wrist and examined her intently, but there was nothing she could do about it.

They never spoke, really, but occasionally he would draw her small flowers or patterns while she slept. She assumed it was embarrassing for him to do it while she was awake, because she would always draw along with him when he did.

Muri watched as the pattern grew along her forearm, beautiful flowers and twisting vines, void of color. Her heart stuttered in her chest, warmth blooming with affection. Whoever her partner was, he always found a way to remind her that he was at least thinking of her. She couldn’t afford to dwell for much longer though, wanting to return with her provisions for Vanya. Drawing her sleeve back down to cover most of the art, she stood, collected her basket, and began making her way back to her hut.

Vanya was bustling about inside, storing away their last bits of dried meat to keep for winter. “Vaaanya~” Muri sang softly, beaming as the old woman gave her a sharp glare. “Look!” She displayed her basket proudly, watching as her aunt riffled through the contents with a cynical eye. She almost looked pleased, but her gaze was drawn quickly to the elaborate markings covering Muri’s hand.

“He still draws for you?” The woman asked in a sharp voice, though she looked far from displeased. “He does.” Muri replied softly, unable to hide her smile. “Sometimes I worry that he thinks I dislike it, because I can’t always draw for him in return, but he always seems to come back.” Her aunt considered her a moment, rough hands still holding tenderly at her wrist, before she let go and moved away.

“Those pirates are back today, take the bits we have and see if you can’t trade for some meat or a blanket.” That was the end of her soulmate talk it seemed, not that Muerrie particularly minded. Markings on the skin were typically private, not something to be acknowledged in public due to the way it served as communication between soulmates, but Vanya was ever an intrusion to her privacy.

“Yes Vanya.” The young woman responded obediently, hardly able to hide a smile as she gathered the little coin they had and started off for the beach, searching in particular for Rylen. He knew of her soulmate as well, and often was willing to trade her paints for less than they were worth. Not out of the kindness of his heart, she would often be asked to sew something for him in return at a later date, and she was fine with that. 

Upon her arrival Rylen practically leapt off of his ship, a smile so bright it blinded and directed her way as he came over to her. “Muri! You’ll never guess what I have for you~” He beamed, hands hid behind his back as though she weren’t already able to assume. 

“Oh I can’t imagine….” She murmured, doing her best to appear inquisitive and pretending to think it over. “Perhaps a book in some long-dead language?” She teased, and he scoffed in reply before showing her the paints. A larger variety this time, several small jars full of different shades of all the colors she could imagine. 

She hesitated, biting her bottom lip nervously as her eyes scanned the many jars. Usually he had only a pot or two of paint to give her, but this was too much, she wasn’t sure she had something even remotely close in value to give him in return, even with her sewing skills on offer. “Rylen I...won’t be able to accept these. Perhaps I could only take the blue?” She asked, gravitating towards the pot of deep, ocean blue ink, but he shook his head.

“Nonsense, little flower. I will be gone for many months you see, and I will surely miss your birthday by the time I return. Think of this as an early gift in my absence.” He smiled at her, tucking the paints into a box with enough slots to hold them all and ensure they wouldn’t move about and shatter. He handed it to her easily, delighting in her baffled expression. 

Her hands trembled as she accepted the gift, still unsure as to whether or not it would be right for her to take it. “I also have a few items to trade, if you’re willing. And as well, I have a few shirts that could do with your mending.” He spoke easily, as if trying to dissuade her worries on keeping something so expensive. 

“Of course, Vanya sent me to trade for meat if possible, perhaps a blanket for the winter.” Her eyes scanned about, taking stock of the other sailors in attendance, wondering if perhaps they had what she needed. Rylen was reliable for his odds and ends, but she knew the others to be more practical with their wares. “Don’t look like that!” He complained, barely able to stifle a laugh as her gaze immediately turned away from him. “I’m sure I have some of what you’re looking for, take this spice for example!”

As he held out a small black leather pouch to her, she noticed he seemed...nervous? Up until that moment he was relaxed, comfortable in her presence, but now he was tense and borderline jittery. 

“Spice? What kind?” She asked suspiciously, not trusting his abrupt change in demeanor. He laughed, his voice breaking a bit as he examined the pouch in his hand. “I admit, I’m not quite sure. Some spice used by nobility perhaps? They are overfond of their luxury items.”

It was a vague assumption, not even an explanation. How did he get it if he didn’t even know what it was? And why was he trying to sell it to her? She eyed him with a very un-subtle look of mistrust, and he pretended to look wounded. “I’m here only for things that will benefit my aunt and I during winter, I shouldn’t waste any bits on spice if there is nothing for it to go on, yes?” 

Muerrie felt guilt gnaw at her as she felt the weight of his gift in her hands, but she forced herself to ignore it. The gift was to be paid for with her time, not her coin, that had to be used on food or Vanya would very likely have her head. Rylen sighed, nodding as he took the paints from her grasp. For a brief moment, she worried he would take it back out of spite, but he simply moved to place it in her satchel for her with a smile. “Very well, little flower. Then I instead will bring out a pack of dried jerky, if that pleases you?” He asked with a mock bow, and she scoffed. “I could hardly afford a whole pack, Rylen, that you are very well aware of. A strip and a half would suffice.” She withdrew the bits in her pocket and waited as he boarded his ship, coming back moments later with what looked to be a slightly used woolen blanket in his arms, as well as a neat package tied with linen string atop of it.

“Here you are, dear. Winter will be harsh without us this year, as I won’t be back for some time. Consider this an advance on the work I am liable to have you do once I have returned.” She tried to argue, drawing the line at not receiving only equal in value to what she gave, and her little coin was hardly enough for all that he passed to her arms. “I won’t hear of it.” He cut her off, practically shoving the items at her and stepping away, holding out a hand for his payment.

A scarlet blush stung at her cheeks, shame rippling through her as she deposited the meager coin into his hand. He smiled at her, looking a touch guilty as he backed away. “Survive, little flower, and I hope to see you again.” 

He retreated back to his ship, leaving her to her thoughts. Survive? She would always survive the winter, so that left her to wonder what circumstances were so dire that he doubted her ability.

While making her way back home, she felt a tingling start up in her left arm this time, drawing a giddy smile to her lips in the wake of her less than happy thoughts. Somehow he always knew, though drawing on her twice in one day was a surprise to be sure. He almost never drew for her more than once every few days. She hurried back to the hut, eager to put her paints to use to return the favor.

“Vanya!” Muri called out as she walked through the front door, watching the old woman’s eyes widen at the sight of her haul. “What? Did you steal this?” She asked suspiciously, drawing out a loud noise of indignance from Muerrie in protest.

“Of course I didn’t, Rylen said that since he won’t be back again before winter, I should take this as an advance for the work he plans to give me upon his return.” Muri sighed, setting down the jerky on their dining “table” before walking over to Vanya, draping the warm blanket over her lap. “There, now hopefully your joints won’t protest so much at the cold.” She smiled, drawing it up to her aunt’s chin before the woman could argue. 

She hurried to their bedroom, taking out the box of paint with barely concealed glee. After peeling off her darkly dyed long-sleeved shirt, she gazed at her left arm in surprise. Her soulmate liked to draw flowers the most, but instead her arm was decorated in waves of what appeared to be water, it was hard to tell with no color, but the fish that darted across her skin gave her an idea. 

He didn’t often draw new things, but the effort was appreciated nonetheless. Muerrie opened a few pots of her newly obtained ink, picking up a small, clean brush before pondering what color to start with.

On the rare occasion that she had paints to work with, her mate would draw her large-scaled patterns for her to color in, as he seemed to realize early on that her talents did not lie in drawing. 

And so she set to work, filling in the beautiful flowers gracing her right arm with an array of colors. Sky blues, silky violets, blinding yellows, a vivid rainbow gracing her skin, and she knew they would be gracing his as well.

Soulmate drawing was an interesting thing, as it wasn’t only what you drew that would show up on your partner. She had woken up to patterns imitating scars before, though she did not feel the pain he did, she saw his wounds. The tattoos would always fade, but she knew the scars stayed with him. Just so, he probably had numerous tiny scars littering his hands throughout the day whenever she foraged, and she wondered what he thought of them.

Sometimes he drew over them, and she thought maybe he wanted to hide them from whoever might see on his end, but slowly, Muri started to hope that it was to comfort her, to turn her scars into something beautiful. Perhaps it was presumptuous to think that way, but it made her feel better so she let herself dream regardless. 

In Edric, it was not likely she would meet whoever her soulmate was, considering how removed she was from any civilization. There was no harm in dreaming, then, wondering at what kind of person her bond gifted her. In some ways, they had grown up together. Ever since she was young, he had drawn her gifts of flowers, even before she understood how these strange markings came to be on her body. Her mother had explained it to her, and when Muri questioned if father was her soulmate, she had simply shook her head. 

Mother never met her soulmate, but they were always together. On her wedding day, her partner had covered her body in beautiful tribal tattoos, almost like henna, white lines that curled beautifully over her mother’s caramel skin. She hadn’t been able to see it herself, but her father often spoke of that day, and how lucky he felt that his wife’s soulmate understood and remained happy for them. It comforted her, to think that even if her partner did not care for her romantically, or vice versa, they could still potentially remain friends.

“Drink.”

A rough voice pulled her from her thoughts, questioning eyes lifting to see Vanya standing over her, a steaming mug in her hands. “You’ve been at it for some time, you should drink something” 

She was right, Muri gazed at her arm in wonder. Every petal was beautifully colored, she had even filled in some flowers of her own. They paled in comparison to her soulmate’s, of course, but the artwork as a whole still looked stunning. She wondered what her mate thought of it. Was he pleased? Disgusted? Amused?

  
“ _ Drink _ .” Vanya spoke again, huffing as she practically shoved the cup into Muri’s hands. “Thank you, Vanya.” She laughed, watching as her Aunt grumbled and left the room to return to her seat by the dimming fire. She sipped at her tea gratefully, her brow furrowing at the distinct bitter taste that cut through the subtle sweetness. It tasted...almost spicy, but not quite. Sharp? It was impossible to place. 

Still, she drained the cup quickly, and set to work coloring in the beautiful painting of an ocean that graced her left arm. With so many different shades of blue to work with, it would be easy to convey the rippling waves and shading in the looming shadows of the fish underneath the surface. As she colored, more fish appeared, and her heart skipped a beat at the realization that he was drawing with her, which he typically hated doing. 

Muerrie could almost imagine his hands ghosting over her flesh, a delicate brush tracing lines and breathing life into his paintings. A wistful sigh escaped her lips, and she put her brush down, capping the jars and placing them back in their box before sliding down against her cot. 

He seemed to realize she was done for the night, and for the first time words appeared on her skin. Messy, shaky, but clear as day even in the dim lighting of her hut. 

_ Goodnight. _

**Author's Note:**

> I yoinked this soulmate idea from minky-way, I think is her name. I read a fanfic of hers foreeeverrr ago and it gave me this idea, and it stuck with me. I'm not sure if she is the original creator or not, so I can't properly give credit for the plot. I'm pretty new to this whole writing thing, and i've never written a story in chapters before, so hopefully people enjoy this and I'm motivated enough to keep it going. Sorry there's not a lot of actual plot in this chapter, it's more a pre-face to the actual setting.


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